


Something Old, Something New

by FoxRafer



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-31
Updated: 2010-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxRafer/pseuds/FoxRafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <a href="http://mooms.livejournal.com/"><b>mooms</b></a> for the 2010 <a href="http://wordsontongue.livejournal.com/"><b>wordsontongue</b></a> exchange; she requested fluff, mild angst, kink, domestic, romance, hurt/comfort, and/or humour; with the following prompts - rain, spring, rebirth and renewal</p>
    </blockquote>





	Something Old, Something New

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [**mooms**](http://mooms.livejournal.com/) for the 2010 [**wordsontongue**](http://wordsontongue.livejournal.com/) exchange; she requested fluff, mild angst, kink, domestic, romance, hurt/comfort, and/or humour; with the following prompts - rain, spring, rebirth and renewal

The storm had leached all the color from the city; charcoal layered on cement accented with gray. People hurried past, leaving a rush of damp air in their wake and Viggo curled in on himself, away from even their cursory contact. The pavement glistened beneath his boots as he splashed across the sidewalk, hands deep in the pockets of his coat.

When had the spectrum of his life turned monotone? He felt like a black and white photograph, sepia creeping along his edges, a frozen snapshot on the page. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a shop window and almost stopped to stare at the stranger looking back. The rain seemed to age him, carve lines of worry rather than joy into his brow, stoop his shoulders. He was stuck in this moment, lost in time.

As he turned down Third Avenue he tried to assess what was wrong. He wasn't bored so much as aimless, drifting. Normal outlets of expression broke against an unseen wall. He needed change, that was obvious, but more than merely a different environment. New scenery would help recapture his passions, his drives, but sharing it with a good friend was the key, would pull him out of his head, help him focus on everything and not just the loop of self-doubt and recriminations. There was no question who he wanted to come; as soon as the idea began to form in his mind Sean's was the only face he saw. But could he make the time, or rather would he want to _take_ the time for Viggo?

# # #

"You're the 'something old'," he told Sean after explaining his idea. "The house in Spain will be something new."

"What about the borrowed and blue," Sean asked, not surprised that this was the only question he wanted to ask.

Viggo smiled and quietly sighed, relieved Sean had just gone along with it, as accepting of Viggo's idiosyncrasies as he always had been. "We'll figure those out as we go," he replied, his voice pitched slightly lower, evident of gratitude or relief or something else entirely. It was surprising how easily everything else fell into place, and after only a few minutes they had worked out how schedules would be cleared and when travel plans would be made. The call ended after another hour of old jokes and rambling conversation, already filling spaces long left empty by time and neglect.

After hanging up, Sean sat for a few minutes rubbing his thumb along his cell phone screen and thinking. He wasn't a big believer in second chances, or in love. But he believed in Viggo, in what they had together. It was one of the few things he knew without a doubt that he'd gotten right, the one thing he was sure of and should never have let slip through his fingers. And now this daft man, his friend, his one-time lover ... now Viggo needed him and Sean would never let him down.

# # #

The drive from the airport was almost surreal in its normalcy. It had been years since they had done anything more than exchange voice mail messages, e-mails and letters; phone calls had been far too rare. Yet the moment they met in baggage claim it was as if no time had passed. They settled into an easy rapport, comfortable and familiar. 

Small villages gave way to open farmland before they finally turned down a rough road at the base of the mountains. They grew quiet, absorbed by the beauty of the passing scenery. Sean tried to remember the reasons they had decided to go back to simple friendship. He could hear the conversations, see the logic, yet it all seemed like excuses to him now, and foolish ones at that.

Viggo glanced at Sean's pensive face, wondered if his thoughts drifted to decisions made years ago. Every time he thought about Sean he regretted being both too afraid and too stubborn to say the words, to tell Sean what he wanted and ask for the same in return. What did he really want from this trip? he asked himself. Had all the lethargy he'd felt really been something much more basic?

Two dirt ruts in the grass marked the approach to the house. It was small and blended smoothly into the landscape, nestled into a clearing surrounded by oak and maple trees. Sean and Viggo climbed out of the car, instantly struck by the quiet and the calm. They exchanged smiles then dragged their bags out of the trunk.

"Ah, something borrowed," Sean declared as Viggo opened the door.

"Something rented," Viggo corrected, stepping into the main room, dusty from lack of use. "Besides, it's already the 'something new' and it can't be two things."

Sean followed Viggo inside, dropping his duffel in front of the still open door before reaching into his jacket pocket.

"Ok then, you can borrow my pen while we're here."

"Sean, I have my own ...," Viggo cut himself off as he turned to see Sean framed in the doorway, his hand extended with a plain Bic ballpoint pen. He saw that familiar glint of humor in Sean's eyes but also something more, something he hadn't seen in years and suddenly realized he'd missed and hoped to see again for a long time now.

He reached out and took the pen, rolled it between his fingers as he held Sean's gaze. "I guess that just leaves blue."

# # #

Viggo wandered around the river valley, his camera mostly hanging unused from his hand. He felt the soothing warmth of the flush in his cheeks, sensed his blood running like a fast-moving stream in his veins. The day was cloudy, a light rain soaking into the grass, yet the world was rich with color: rusty golds, pale apple greens, crimson petals. 

They had only been here a few days and already he felt himself relaxing back into his skin. And the unconscious comfort that Sean gave him, sturdy and unquestioning, was exactly what he needed; today and tomorrow and every day. More than ever he was convinced that ending things between them after Rings had been a mistake.

Maybe not a mistake, he thought, more the right choice for that time in their lives but the wrong choice now. They just got each other; quirks, faults and all. He hadn't recognized the rarity of that unspoken acceptance, how precious it was, until he felt it again on this trip. He was almost sure Sean sensed it too, remembered the days when all it took was a look or the briefest of touches for everything to settle into place.

His lazy path through the woods brought him to the mountain spring they'd discovered on their second day exploring the hills. Viggo'd found himself drawn there many times, an invigorating oasis nestled between granite outcroppings. Today he wasn't the only one. He heard Sean before he saw him, his body breaking the water just beyond Viggo's sight. Rounding the corner the spring came into view and Viggo was grateful for his camera, the image of Sean cutting through the water begging to be captured on film.

He crouched a few yards from the edge and stole picture after picture, stopping only when Sean noticed and beckoned him over.

"Jumping in there is something I would do," Viggo said.

"Why do you think I'm here?"

Sean's response sent a slight shiver down Viggo's spine and he found himself at a loss for words.

Sean laughed. "Are you going to join me or just sit there taking pictures?"

The pull was as strong as it had ever been, a steady force toward Sean that emptied the air from Viggo's lungs and rushed through his heart. But Viggo held back, not able to shake a lingering twist of caution. If this wasn't leading toward the shared life he wanted, he needed to document everything, have as many moments as he could saved to more than just his memories.

"Pictures, I think," he murmured.

Sean gave him an appraising look, questioning, then slowly swam for the far side of the spring.

# # #

It was Sean's fifth trip around the room in the last several minutes and he'd gone through every drawer and cabinet too many times to count. They were leaving tomorrow and he still hadn't found anything 'blue' to finish the rhyme. It was a ridiculous hunt, pointless, just a silly idea they'd fallen into from Viggo's first phone call. But it symbolized something, just as this trip seemed to signal a change of direction, tracing steps back to a decision both wanted to undo. 

He still wasn't completely sure why Viggo had wanted a break but it was clear Viggo didn't need to talk about it. In fact, whatever had been wrong seemed to have dispersed fairly quickly, so quickly that from the moment they'd met at the airport this trip had become something quite different: a reconnection, rekindling, renewal. They'd spent just as much time on their own as together, yet even that seemed a clear sign of their joint strength. And all the while they flirted around the edges of an ever-present low-simmering desire that built in strength every day.

Sean laughed, wondering what his mates back home would think of him running around trying to complete the bridal phrase, as if doing so would unlock the final latch they agreed to bolt all those years ago. "If only Viggo had brought some bloody paint with him," he muttered, going through the desk drawer for the umpteenth time. Abruptly he stopped rummaging, finally having an idea. He scribbled a quick note to Viggo then dashed out the door to drive to the nearby village. Viggo wasn't the only one who could charm the pants off people when he wanted to. And somewhere in that town was a shop or a child who had what he needed.

# # #

"Can you make sure we pack that magazine I bought yesterday?" Viggo didn't look up from the chopping board when he heard Sean enter the kitchen. "There's an article about me in it and I'd rather it wasn't left lying around. The whole thing was just laughable; never even met the writer once. They kept theorizing about what color were my eyes." 

"Well your eyes do change color."

Viggo turned toward Sean looking for the joke but didn't find it.

Sean slowly started across the room. "They would've been the easy solution to the problem but so many things affect their color; I think 'mutable' is the right word," he said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. "Which is why I had to go hunting for this."

"What is it?"

"Something blue."

Viggo unfolded the sheet, his fingers grazing across the blue crayon that covered both sides. He turned it in his hands, wanting to memorize each stroke, every unmarked crease and finger smudge, every ridge and flake. He leaned closer to Sean, looked up into eyes open and unguarded, filled with the same warmth and heat and love that radiated from his own, and smiled.

"Just so we're clear. I'm not wearing a bridal gown."

Sean's lips ghosted across Viggo's as the final piece fell into place. "Wouldn't dream to ask."


End file.
